Fourth Sunday of Lent.

What I Fail To Do.

It isn't the things we do, it's the things we leave undone,
which gives us a little heartache at the setting of the sun.
The gentle word forgotten, the letter we didn't write;
the flowers we didn't send, these are the haunting ghosts at night.

The stone we might have lifted out of my brother's way;
and the little heart-felt counsel we were hurried too much to say.
The tender touch of the hand, the gentle and kindly tone;
which we have no time for, with troubles enough of our own.

Did I Pass or Fail?